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So, I took it. My girlfriend moved with me to my first job, following me to a less than ideal community, to gain that valuable experience as a teacher. She had graduated as well, but didn’t want to work in the field she got her degree in. So we established ourselves in the community and tried to build a life together. It was tough at first, but also incredibly exciting that all the hard work in college had paid off for us. Her parents were a little hesitant for her to move with me, thinking that I was leading her along and not serious in my commitment to her. I had started playing around with the idea of marriage, but wasn’t quite ready to commit to that idea quite yet. And then I was notified, once again, that I would be deployed. Now, all of my anxiety and stress about defining what exactly “we” were came to the fore. The moment where I had to decide if I wanted to keep her in my life, with questions unasked, and confessions not confessed…to cut ties and move on. In the end, on a beautiful overlook high in the mountains of Wyoming we decided to get married before I left for a year. In retrospect, it was probably a mistake. Being married is not the same as a live-in, long-term relationship. It presents with a whole host of challenges and the short time frame where we might have investigated my love of latex and how it applied to my sexuality and to our relationship was lost. On a deployment, you live a very selfish life. Everything is laid out, you have a set routine and a way to mark off each day. If you are not running missions or doing other work, you are taking time for yourself, you are filling the minutes and hours with anyway that you can, each tick of the clock one more step closer to home. But it is a very self-absorbed existence and tends to make one feel selfish and out of touch with what is going on at home. Don’t get me wrong, I did not forget my new wife or my family back at home. I called and emailed and Skyped with my wife the entire time. I wrote letters and sent gifts and she reciprocated with care packages, filled with sweet gifts, caring gestures and snack food, tastes of home. But, a gulf started to develop, physical and emotional separation began to take a toll. Being almost 9 hours ahead of Wyoming, our conversations were limited to periodic exchanges based on when our conflicting schedules allowed. Eventually, we started to drift apart. Our conversations were more heated and there was a feeling of helplessness for the both of us. Events that were going on at home, I had no control over, even though I wanted to help and felt helpless for not being able to. The frustration turned me to escapism. I started talking to past girlfriends, searching for an emotional connection that I felt I wasn’t getting from my wife…even though I truly was being supported. Being horny and lonely can weigh on a person and can affect their mental and emotional health. To get that support, I looked more to my fetish and the joy I received from looking at pictures of glossy, tight rubber and reading erotica that voiced my desires, ignoring the rift that I was helping to create.
In a small way, we repaired part of the rift on a glorious 2-week vacation towards the end of the tour, a trip that covered Ireland, North Ireland and Scotland. Touring the country, exploring the history of the wonderful people. Taking trains and ferries through brilliant green and rolling countryside, standing along the wild, wind tossed coastline was the cathartic break that we both needed. My interest in latex took a back seat to my interest in my wife…though I was tempted to visit and purchase some latex in a few shops I found in Dublin. It is amazing what happens when you have the person you have grown apart with in front of you. Their presence reminds you of the things you like and love about them. It was, I think, an artificial reality, but a reality nonetheless. We were able to reconnect on a small level and I think that is what allowed me to get through the rest of the deployment, somewhat intact. I returned from the deployment in 2010 and we resumed our life together, though now we also welcomed my first born daughter into the mix. I enjoyed and still enjoy being a father. In fact it has been more challenging and rewarding than I ever could have imagined. And while I poured myself into my family, my wife and I never properly reconnected after my return. So many people wanted a “piece” of me, of my time, that we had an abbreviated time together and then we shuttled ourselves back and forth, between families. I should have sequestered my wife and I in a hotel room for a week, ordering room service and fucking our brains out. Wild, unrestrained sex, lube, toys, sweet kisses and debauchery…all focused on our needs. But, that didn’t happen. I should have taken steps to reconnect emotionally and I should have been honest with my desires. I didn’t allow my wife in, I placed a barrier between my wants and focused on getting back to a “normal” routine. I…no, we allowed life to get in the way and so problems we had between us slowly and incrementally festered and grew more damaged. Fights over petty, inconsequential things blew up. Frustration and short, frayed tempers that we attributed to exhaustion with a newborn or reestablishing our work lives had a basis in that we actually didn’t know who we were as married people. I guess, at the core of it all, I wasn’t feeling validated, I hadn’t been honest with who I was and couldn’t for the life of me understand why my wife couldn’t see. Obviously I hadn’t given her that information as fully as I should have.
But an opening presented itself. My wife and I, one night, deep in our cups after a couple rousing games of “quarters”, started voicing some intimate thoughts. It was really the closest we had come to doing this, and it was most assuredly fueled by copious amounts of liquid courage. (Again, I can hear the groans of the experienced crowd out there) We went online and ordered some toys to try between the two of us, lots of laughing and excitement and general good feelings, it was incredibly comforting and open. I also confided, finally having worked up the courage, that I was really into latex and I would like to buy some to wear in the bedroom. I had hinted at it before now, but I was not direct and I never knew if my wife actually understood what I was getting at. I swear to all that read this that she was open and receptive to the idea. She asked a few follow-on questions but she agreed to my request….shining lights, fireworks and angelic choirs sounded in celebration! I was over the moon, so excited and so happy that I had been given this gift by the one who I loved. So, I ordered a few pairs of boxers and briefs and a delicious pair of black, ass-less chap style shorts, all from WestwardBound, one of my favorite latex companies. I ordered simple garments because I didn’t want to go over the top and scare off the positive vibes that I had picked up from my wife. Almost like coaxing a scared animal to come and accept human contact, I felt a catsuit for my first go around would be a bit of an overload. I waited anxiously on their arrival, obsessively checking the mail everyday, and looked forward to that first time that I could wear them to bed. I imagined the fun of having my wife lube my skin so that I could pull the latex on, the feel of her hands on my body, so incredibly erotic. Watching the latex shine up as she rubbed polishing agent onto it, another of the amazing rituals that surrounds this kink. In my mind, in light of all of these positives, I was assured that she would find all of this as stimulating as I did, even if she might not want to wear it. It was inconceivable that it should prove otherwise. The first time I pulled my joggers off, revealing my shined latex underneath in front of my wife was so incredibly nerve-wracking. The years of waiting and finally placed in a position to enjoy my kink with a special someone arrived.
I wish I could say that it was a formative and amazing experience, that it lived up to all that I had imagined and that it was enjoyable for all involved. But….it wasn’t. My wife was disdainful of it. She didn’t react with much support and was, I think, repelled by it. She, to her credit made a go of liking it on me, but I could tell that she was not at all interested in joining me and was put-out by it in general. I was incredibly crushed. I had played my hand, put in all my “chips” to the pot and bet the house, bearing my soul and being given an opening to express myself. I didn’t feel validated and I didn’t feel honored. I wanted to crawl under a rock because I had been absolutely gutted and in a very personal way. So, this is where I am now. I am a closeted latex fetishist, married to a woman who I do love, who has been so supportive to me in all so many ways. Who has been a rock during two deployments and in the aftermath of dealing with my experiences. Who has given us two wonderful, vivacious little girls and works hard to support our family and shares equally in the building of a family. But, in the one area where I could use that support, I have none. I have turned to the online arena, roleplaying and sharing stories and fantasies in online forums, joining Fetlife to share with others and live vicariously through those who are able to live a shiny, tight life. We have gone to counseling, after I was caught with some latex photos on my computer. In a surprising turn of events I was actually validated in my fetish, at least from the perspective that we all have things that make us tick, that excite us and that sometimes these may not make sense to others. It was the things I had been saying for along time, with the understanding that it didn’t take the place of a true and honest relationship with a living, breathing person. Obviously, that is not the goal of what I want to happen, but it seemed to me that my wife was/is scared of being replaced, that she isn’t good enough for me so I have to add something else to make sex with her exciting. These arguments were addressed but, they made no impression on my wife, and I let the matter drop, crafting my “alternative”, second life. It is dishonest, it is duplicitous and it is not an ideal solution….it is not much of a life. I can hear the ridicule and I can imagine the disdain from those who see it as so simple, so easy to enjoy their chosen lifestyle of latex kink. I am so envious of those who get to make a living on their love of latex. I would love to attend a Fetish event, Toronto, Berlin etc. I would love a closet full of my own outfits, walking in and filling my lungs with the heady scent of rubber. But I come back to the “fear” that I talked about earlier. But now it is the fear of convenience and the familiar. I have kicked around the idea of actually going through with a divorce, to save myself and to start living the life I want to, but I am not sure that I can. I am a product of divorce, my parent’s split when I was 11 and I have seen the hurt and pain it can cause to everyone involved, especially children. So I think that staying for my daughters AND for the good things that I love and appreciate about my wife outweigh my desire for latex fulfillment. It has been a battle of my ego, trying to not be selfish, to think of the bigger picture and appreciate what I have already. What I have is a sure thing, breaking it off to date again, to try and find someone who understands my kink and who may want to participate in it with me is not. I am a sad and weak creature. Confident in so many aspects of my life, but left feeling undone and pathetic because I was not strong enough to be open and honest with those I now care deeply for. Thus ends the confession of a closeted latex fetishist.
In a small way, we repaired part of the rift on a glorious 2-week vacation towards the end of the tour, a trip that covered Ireland, North Ireland and Scotland. Touring the country, exploring the history of the wonderful people. Taking trains and ferries through brilliant green and rolling countryside, standing along the wild, wind tossed coastline was the cathartic break that we both needed. My interest in latex took a back seat to my interest in my wife…though I was tempted to visit and purchase some latex in a few shops I found in Dublin. It is amazing what happens when you have the person you have grown apart with in front of you. Their presence reminds you of the things you like and love about them. It was, I think, an artificial reality, but a reality nonetheless. We were able to reconnect on a small level and I think that is what allowed me to get through the rest of the deployment, somewhat intact. I returned from the deployment in 2010 and we resumed our life together, though now we also welcomed my first born daughter into the mix. I enjoyed and still enjoy being a father. In fact it has been more challenging and rewarding than I ever could have imagined. And while I poured myself into my family, my wife and I never properly reconnected after my return. So many people wanted a “piece” of me, of my time, that we had an abbreviated time together and then we shuttled ourselves back and forth, between families. I should have sequestered my wife and I in a hotel room for a week, ordering room service and fucking our brains out. Wild, unrestrained sex, lube, toys, sweet kisses and debauchery…all focused on our needs. But, that didn’t happen. I should have taken steps to reconnect emotionally and I should have been honest with my desires. I didn’t allow my wife in, I placed a barrier between my wants and focused on getting back to a “normal” routine. I…no, we allowed life to get in the way and so problems we had between us slowly and incrementally festered and grew more damaged. Fights over petty, inconsequential things blew up. Frustration and short, frayed tempers that we attributed to exhaustion with a newborn or reestablishing our work lives had a basis in that we actually didn’t know who we were as married people. I guess, at the core of it all, I wasn’t feeling validated, I hadn’t been honest with who I was and couldn’t for the life of me understand why my wife couldn’t see. Obviously I hadn’t given her that information as fully as I should have.
But an opening presented itself. My wife and I, one night, deep in our cups after a couple rousing games of “quarters”, started voicing some intimate thoughts. It was really the closest we had come to doing this, and it was most assuredly fueled by copious amounts of liquid courage. (Again, I can hear the groans of the experienced crowd out there) We went online and ordered some toys to try between the two of us, lots of laughing and excitement and general good feelings, it was incredibly comforting and open. I also confided, finally having worked up the courage, that I was really into latex and I would like to buy some to wear in the bedroom. I had hinted at it before now, but I was not direct and I never knew if my wife actually understood what I was getting at. I swear to all that read this that she was open and receptive to the idea. She asked a few follow-on questions but she agreed to my request….shining lights, fireworks and angelic choirs sounded in celebration! I was over the moon, so excited and so happy that I had been given this gift by the one who I loved. So, I ordered a few pairs of boxers and briefs and a delicious pair of black, ass-less chap style shorts, all from WestwardBound, one of my favorite latex companies. I ordered simple garments because I didn’t want to go over the top and scare off the positive vibes that I had picked up from my wife. Almost like coaxing a scared animal to come and accept human contact, I felt a catsuit for my first go around would be a bit of an overload. I waited anxiously on their arrival, obsessively checking the mail everyday, and looked forward to that first time that I could wear them to bed. I imagined the fun of having my wife lube my skin so that I could pull the latex on, the feel of her hands on my body, so incredibly erotic. Watching the latex shine up as she rubbed polishing agent onto it, another of the amazing rituals that surrounds this kink. In my mind, in light of all of these positives, I was assured that she would find all of this as stimulating as I did, even if she might not want to wear it. It was inconceivable that it should prove otherwise. The first time I pulled my joggers off, revealing my shined latex underneath in front of my wife was so incredibly nerve-wracking. The years of waiting and finally placed in a position to enjoy my kink with a special someone arrived.
I wish I could say that it was a formative and amazing experience, that it lived up to all that I had imagined and that it was enjoyable for all involved. But….it wasn’t. My wife was disdainful of it. She didn’t react with much support and was, I think, repelled by it. She, to her credit made a go of liking it on me, but I could tell that she was not at all interested in joining me and was put-out by it in general. I was incredibly crushed. I had played my hand, put in all my “chips” to the pot and bet the house, bearing my soul and being given an opening to express myself. I didn’t feel validated and I didn’t feel honored. I wanted to crawl under a rock because I had been absolutely gutted and in a very personal way. So, this is where I am now. I am a closeted latex fetishist, married to a woman who I do love, who has been so supportive to me in all so many ways. Who has been a rock during two deployments and in the aftermath of dealing with my experiences. Who has given us two wonderful, vivacious little girls and works hard to support our family and shares equally in the building of a family. But, in the one area where I could use that support, I have none. I have turned to the online arena, roleplaying and sharing stories and fantasies in online forums, joining Fetlife to share with others and live vicariously through those who are able to live a shiny, tight life. We have gone to counseling, after I was caught with some latex photos on my computer. In a surprising turn of events I was actually validated in my fetish, at least from the perspective that we all have things that make us tick, that excite us and that sometimes these may not make sense to others. It was the things I had been saying for along time, with the understanding that it didn’t take the place of a true and honest relationship with a living, breathing person. Obviously, that is not the goal of what I want to happen, but it seemed to me that my wife was/is scared of being replaced, that she isn’t good enough for me so I have to add something else to make sex with her exciting. These arguments were addressed but, they made no impression on my wife, and I let the matter drop, crafting my “alternative”, second life. It is dishonest, it is duplicitous and it is not an ideal solution….it is not much of a life. I can hear the ridicule and I can imagine the disdain from those who see it as so simple, so easy to enjoy their chosen lifestyle of latex kink. I am so envious of those who get to make a living on their love of latex. I would love to attend a Fetish event, Toronto, Berlin etc. I would love a closet full of my own outfits, walking in and filling my lungs with the heady scent of rubber. But I come back to the “fear” that I talked about earlier. But now it is the fear of convenience and the familiar. I have kicked around the idea of actually going through with a divorce, to save myself and to start living the life I want to, but I am not sure that I can. I am a product of divorce, my parent’s split when I was 11 and I have seen the hurt and pain it can cause to everyone involved, especially children. So I think that staying for my daughters AND for the good things that I love and appreciate about my wife outweigh my desire for latex fulfillment. It has been a battle of my ego, trying to not be selfish, to think of the bigger picture and appreciate what I have already. What I have is a sure thing, breaking it off to date again, to try and find someone who understands my kink and who may want to participate in it with me is not. I am a sad and weak creature. Confident in so many aspects of my life, but left feeling undone and pathetic because I was not strong enough to be open and honest with those I now care deeply for. Thus ends the confession of a closeted latex fetishist.